


everything that kills me makes me feel alive

by Princex_N



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, Gen, PTSD, auditory hallucinations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2227494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are broken.<br/>You were broken before but now?<br/>You're wrecked beyond repair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything that kills me makes me feel alive

Your name is Dave Strider and you are broken. 

You were broken before this game even started, not that you would admit it, not that you admit it now. Depression? Cool kids don't get depressed. That facade worked for a long time, everyone took your expressionless deadpan in stride and never asked questions, you acted like you did it on purpose, like it wasn't just because you couldn't muster up enough energy for expressions and vocal range. You felt nothing, you showed nothing, and no one said a thing. 

But now? 

Your edges are fraying. It says a lot about someone that no one suspects anything. Whether it's just that you're a better actor than you thought you were or it's a testament to how broken the others are as well, no one says a thing. Least of all you. 

But it isn't like it's quiet. It's never quiet for you, you don't know about the others. 

You are the Knight of Time. You didn't sign up for this position, but you landed it anyway, and there is nothing you can do to escape it. The constant ticking of clocks in your head started the moment you started to use your time traveling powers. You had too much on your mind to pay it any mind, there was too much to do, too many things going on for you to even distinguish it from the ticking of your land. Once you left it became more noticeable, but there was still too much for you to be doing to focus on it. 

The voices started up after the first Dave died. You weren't even aware of it at first, you just thought it was your own thoughts. But they piled up, and with every additional dead Dave you got another voice and the other voices got louder. You ignored it, you were fine, there wasn't anything wrong. That mantra worked for you, except for on the days when you could barely hear yourself think through all of the voices of the you's who failed. 

Now some days it's an effort to hear the voices of your friends over them. 

You talk to yourself now too. It's the only way that you can hear yourself think and actually know that you're the one talking. You think out loud, and everyone is too wrapped up in their own problems to notice.

Not that you blame them, how could you? It isn't like you're the only person who played this game, who got left with cracks from it. Everyone is just as fucked up as you are, you have no right to try and put your problems on top of theirs. It doesn't matter that you haven't slept in god knows how long (you know exactly how long right down to the fucking second), you aren't the most important person here. 

You don't matter at all. 

Your Bro would probably be ashamed of you. You play one measly game and you crack up completely. You weren't even there with him, you couldn't do shit, you were too busy fucking around with some goddamn crocodiles to try and help him out. You think Davesprite was, well, you know Davesprite was. The wing and blood and feathers he left behind are proof of that.

You hope he got to grieve like you didn't.

You were too busy with your fucking 'cool kid' persona to let yourself cry, and it wasn't like Bro would want you to anyway. He'd probably be sick to know that he had someone as weak as you for a kid brother, it makes you almost glad that he died before he got a chance to see you like this. At least that way you can sometimes convince yourself that he might have been proud of you.

Up until his voice joins all of the dead Dave's that is.

It doesn't say anything you didn't already know.

That doesn't make it hurt any less.

You don't know how long it takes for a human to die of sleep deprivation. You don't think you can die from something like that anyway, not anymore.

You've taken to sitting crouched behind the bed in the room you've claimed, swathed in blankets and trying to keep your head quiet.

They find you after a particularly bad night, bleeding. Sometime during the night (at exactly 12:33 AM Houston time, 1:33 AM Miami, 2:33 PM Tokyo, not that any of that matters. None of those places exist anymore) you started to slam your head against the wall out of desperation. You started to bleed after two hours, and they found you at 11:00 AM Houston Time still banging your head and only barely conscious. 

The blood doesn't show on your outfit, but it's matted in your hair and you can't bring yourself to give a shit. Karkat tried to pull you away from the wall and you screamed. 

You screamed and screamed and screamed and everyone in your head screamed with you. 

You aren't sure what happened after that. Your eyes were shut, you could feel people touching you, but you aren't sure if they were real. You've been feeling people grabbing at your ankles for days. There's no doubt that they were talking, but you couldn't hear anything over the shouting in your head. There's words pouring out of your own mouth, but you can't hear what you're saying. And that terrifies you. 

Your name is Dave Strider and your head is so loud.

You're not okay, you might even be dying. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. I'm pretty sure it's finished, I can't think of anything to go with it. Maybe I'll tack on a happier chapter when I get bored or something who knows, maybe someone else wants to write a happier followup that would be rad.  
> [Tumblr](http://www.princex-n.tumblr.com)


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